The Tate Twelve Days of Christmas
by pretentious-emo-kid
Summary: Title kinda says it all. Late Christmas present to Tate fans. EDIT Just realised that I should mention that this is NOT a song, and in fact has very little to do with the song...oh, just read it. :P


**A/N: Firstly, sorry for being absent so long. Many things (the main offender being GCSE coursework) have meant that I am too busy to indulge in the world of Tate. However, I am here with this little offering, and the promise of more to come in the near future. I am finally going to get back to 'Coincidences' (the reasons for abandoning this, even I am not quite sure of), I have a one shot coming up in which Tony and Kate get trapped together (but various circumstances mean that this is a less than relaxed situation…)****, I am almost finished on an epilogue for 'Impossible', and I have ideas simmering away for another chaptered fic, for which I will give you nothing but the clue, "Kate kicks ass". And, if this was not enough:P, I am toying with the idea of a season three rewrite (opinions on whether or not this would be a good idea would be greatly appreciated).**

**Phew.**

**So…this story…basically a collection of Tate moments (of my own imagining) that take place during the twelve days of Christmas. Some are a little more far-fetched than others, but it's the holiday season, and we all love fluff. ******** Oh, and there may be some all-knowing genius out there who actually knows when in the year the twelve days of Christmas are, and if I have got the concept wrong (which I deeply suspect) call it artistic licence.**

**Anyway, Merry (late) Christmas, folks, and bear with me…**

**On the first day of Christmas****…**

"There's nothing else we can do, Kate. You're the only one of us small enough to fit through," said Gibbs.

Kate sighed – sometimes she hated being the only woman on the team.

"Fine…but you had better make it worth my while later," she growled under her breath. "Give me a boost, Tony."

Tony came away from listening at the door, and crossed the room to help Kate up into the vent.

"How is it?" asked Gibbs, sounding, Kate noticed with no little satisfaction, a little concerned.

"Well," replied Kate, as she squeezed through the tiny metal tunnel, "It's dark, claustrophobic, and freezing cold. But none of that is quite as bad as knowing that DiNozzo's eyes won't have left my ass once since I got in here."

"Naturally," grinned Tony.

**On the second day of Christmas…**

"What are you doing, DiNozzo?" asked Gibbs, as he crossed the bullpen, noticing that Tony was waving a video camera round.

"I'm filming the next big thing in TV crime drama, boss; 'Without a Case'."

Kate hid her grin under her hair, as she bent over her desk.

"I don't understand that reference, DiNozzo, and even if I did, I doubt I'd find it funny. Still," added Gibbs, "If you're bored of paperwork, I've got a job for you."

Kate's head snapped up eagerly. "Both of us?" she asked.

"Both of you," replied Gibbs. "There's some crime writer coming by later. He wants to interview me for research."

"And that's bad, right?" said Tony.

"Yes, Tony. That's bad."

"So, what do you want us to do?" asked Kate.

"I need you to make it seem like I'm the last person on Earth he'd want to interview for the character of a grizzled, divorced, plays by his own rules detective."

Tony's eyes lit up with the unmistakable sign of an idea. "What time is he coming?" he asked.

"Late afternoon. He couldn't be more specific than that." Gibbs did not hide his disdain at this behaviour from 'one of those artistic types'.

"Good," said Tony, "We'll need to make a few stops."

As he said this, Kate shrugged on her jacket, and threw him a set of keys.

"Operation 'scare the hell out of the writer' is go," she said, raising her eyebrows.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

"You seem a little reluctant to answer my questions, Agent Gibbs."

Gibbs simply shrugged, glancing up at the clock. 'That's it', he decided. He could bear this no longer. "What do you feel motivates you, Agent Gibbs?" "Have you ever had amorous feelings for another member of your team, Agent Gibbs?" "What effect does your job have on your personal life, Agent Gibbs?"

Enough was enough.

He could only hope that Kate and Tony had not let him down.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

"_This _is your team?"

The writer could not keep the disbelief from his voice. Kate and Tony had done a wonderful job.

Tony had donned an ancient Hawaiian shirt that he had clearly discovered at the back of his closet. To complete the outfit, he wore his oldest pair of jeans, and…_flip flops_…? However, this hilarious ensemble was nothing in comparison to Kate. Dressed in denim jeans and a tank top, and nodding her head rhythmically along to whatever her headphones were plugged into, she juggled a file in her hands, as she perched comfortably on Tony's shoulders.

"You must be the writer!" she grinned.

"Oh, hi," said Tony, looking up from the filing cabinet, seemingly oblivious to the woman with her legs on either side of his head.

"So, do you have any questions for us?" asked Kate. Even Gibbs struggled to keep his face straight at her overly bright tone. He had no idea how she and Tony managed to look so sincere.

"Erm, I think I'm about done here, actually," said the writer.

"Really," said Kate, sadly, "Because we've got like a tonne of stories about the big G."

"The big G?" murmured the writer, weakly.

"Yeah," said Tony. "He's the best thing about working here."

"You know, I really should be going," said the writer, already crossing the bullpen.

As she watched him leave, Kate slid awkwardly off Tony's shoulders.

"The big G?" asked Gibbs, raising his eyebrows.

Kate and Tony simply gave each other a high five.

**On the third day if Christmas…**

"I had a really strange dream last night," said Kate.

"What kind?" asked Tony.

"You know that stupid one where you come to work naked?"

"Oh yeah! I had the exact same dream!"

"Really? You came to work naked?"

"No," admitted Tony, "But you did."

**On the fourth day of Christmas…**

"Do you need any help, sir?"

Tony looked up to see an extremely pretty sales assistant stood at his shoulder.

"That would be great," he said, smoothly. "I'm looking for a Christmas present."

"Who for?" asked the woman, batting her eyelashes.

"She's a colleague."

"She." The sales assistant's eyelashes became suddenly quite stationary.

"A colleague," repeated Tony, flashing his trademark grin.

The woman looked cheerful once again. "Well, chocolates or wine are popular gifts for colleagues. Does she drink white or red?"

"Red," answered Tony quickly, "But that wasn't quite what I had in mind."

"Flowers or candles, then?"

"That all sounds nice, but I wanted to get something a little more personal."

"So, she's more of a friend?"

"I guess so."

"Well, I could help you pick out a nice scarf or something…"

Tony looked uncertain. "How about perfume? I've got a pretty good idea of what kinds she likes."

"That's usually more common for girlfriends or wives, sir," said the woman, a little sharply. She clearly did not appreciate Tony's flirting glances anymore. "Perhaps you need a little longer to decide."

"No, that's not necessary," insisted Tony, but the girl had already stalked off, rolling her eyes.

"Great," he said to himself, grabbing a box of chocolates off the shelf.

**On the fifth day of Christmas…**

The stakeout had lasted six long hours.

"My butt hurts," groaned Kate.

"Want me to rub it for you?" asked Tony.

She threw a peanut at him, and turned her head away, not able to bear looking at him.

It was nothing to do with making sure he didn't see her laughing…

**On the sixth day of Christmas…**

"The odds are, that our murder weapon is somewhere in here," explained Gibbs.

"That would make sense," agreed Kate, "If the killer was panicked, they could easily have thrown the gun in here."

"Exactly. Good luck finding it," said Gibbs.

"What?! You want me to search through a trash pile?!"

"Yeah. And I don't know why you're grinning, DiNozzo; you're going to help her."

- - - - - - - - - - - -

"I hate Gibbs," grumbled Tony, picking a banana peel off the sleeve of his overalls.

"Me too," said Kate.

There was a brief pause, before they slowly looked at one another.

"You just agreed with me," said Tony.

"I know I did," said Kate, sounding just as nervous.

"What do we do now?" asked Tony.

"We…we keep searching and pretend it never happened."

"Good idea."

**On the seventh day of Christmas…**

"Ka-ate," said Tony, in what he probably thought was a seductive voice.

"What?" she asked, warily.

Tony did not reply, but instead simply gazed up at the mistletoe above their heads.

Rolling her eyes, she took his chin in her hand, and slowly brought her face to his. Tony closed his eyes.

"Dream on, DiNozzo," said Kate, turning in the other direction.

Tony grinned sheepishly at a passing agent. "Can't blame a guy for trying."

**On the eighth day of Christmas…**

"This is our case," insisted Gibbs, "The vic' is a naval officer!"

"It was our case before it was yours," sighed the FBI agent on the conference screen, mysteriously. "Anyway, I have my best agents on it."

"For the undercover mission?"

"Yes."

"Well tell me more about your plan. Maybe my people are better suited for it."

"Oh really?"

"Really."

"They'll be impersonating an arrogant sports coach and his pretty, intelligent psychiatrist wife."

Gibbs grinned, and turned to one of the tech guys. "Can you make this thing work one way?" he asked quietly.

"What do you mean, Agent Gibbs?"

"I mean, so that he can see us, but we can't see him."

"Of course."

"Good. Do it, and then fetch Agents DiNozzo and Todd."

- - - - - - - - - - - -

"You sent for us, boss?" Tony strolled into the conference room.

"Yeah. Where's Kate?"

"In the hall. She bumped into some guy carrying a load of files. Made quite a mess, in fact."

At that moment, Kate came through the doors. "Thanks a lot, Tony! Leave me to clear up your mess."

"_My _mess? It was your fault." He turned to Gibbs. "It was her fault."

"Oh, I wouldn't trust DiNozzo's version of events. He was far too busy trying to see up the new secretary's skirt to see what actually happened," snapped Kate.

They would have carried on all day if Gibbs had not turned away from them.

"Well?" he asked.

The conference screen flashed back into life.

"The case is yours."

**On the ninth day of Christmas…**

Reluctantly, Kate climbed out of the car, and straight into Tony's arms.

"You know," she sighed, "This really isn't necessary."

"Nonsense, Katie. I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."

He carried her across the car park, and through the doors of the NCIS building.

"Okay, Tony. You can put me down now."

"Don't worry," he said, shrugging her into a fireman's lift, "You're not that heavy."

"No, really, Tony. It's fine."

"Oh," said Tony, slowly. "You're worried what people will think of you. Well, I'll take care of that." Very loudly, he began to talk to the other people in the building. "Agent Todd is only on my back because she has twisted her ankle! Not for any other reason! Just in case any of you were thinking that she was throwing herself at me…she doesn't do that anymore!"

"I am going to kick your ass, DiNozzo," growled Kate, turning crimson.

"Well," muttered Tony, as he briskly patted the back of her knee, "Just watch your ankle."

**On the tenth day of Christmas…**

"Well," sighed Tony, slowly wriggling the chair that he was tied to around, so that he was facing Kate, "What are we going to do now?"

Kate's face turned slightly pale. "I can't believe that I'm going to suggest this," she murmured.

"What? Do you have a plan?"

"Sort of."

"What is it?"

"You remember rule nine – always carry a knife?"

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Tony looked like a little boy whose Christmases had all come at once.

"Why did you never tell me this before?"

"Well it's not really the kind of thing that comes up in conversation, is it? 'By the way, Tony, I keep a knife down my bra'!"

"We haven't got time to argue, Kate."

"Fine, just keep your eyes closed while you're doing it."

"I won't be able to see where it is."

"Okay, then think of Gibbs in the shower instead."

"Kate, are you trying to warp me?"

"No, I'm trying…" But it was too late – Tony's head was already down her shirt.

After a little while (in fact, Kate suspected that he was quite definitely taking longer than necessary) Tony's head reappeared, and he had a small knife gripped firmly between his teeth. He was also grinning very widely indeed.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Gibbs looked confused.

"Most of your escape makes sense, but how did you untie the ropes?" he asked.

"Well –" began Tony, but Kate cut him off.

"That's a story we won't ever be telling," she said, darkly, throwing Tony a threatening look.

**On the eleventh day of Christmas (Christmas Eve)…**

Kate stretched, yawned, and then began to gather her things.

"You're leaving early," noted Tony.

"I know," she smiled, jabbing the 'off' button on her computer. "I'm going to stay with my parents for Christmas."

"Oh."

"What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Working."

"On Christmas Day?" asked Kate, incredulously.

"I always work Christmas Day," he shrugged. Something in his tone told Kate that the conversation was over.

As she made her way over to the lift, she looked at her watch. She didn't really need to be leaving yet…

**On the twelfth day of Christmas (Christmas Day)…**

The words on the monitor had started to look fuzzy, and the silent emptiness of the bullpen made Tony feel stifled and lonely. It was time to take a break.

He walked to the snack room, trying to remember if there was actually anything left on his shelf in the fridge. He vaguely recalled finishing the last of his food a couple of days ago, but if the worst came to the worst, he could always steal from Kate.

He was surprised, then, to discover a vast quantity of foil wrapped food, including turkey, vegetables, and a large, sugar dusted mince pie. Frowning, he searched the fridge for a clue as to the origin of the meal, and found a note.

_It'll only take a couple of minutes to warm up in the microwave._

_Merry Christmas._

_Xx_

It didn't matter that she hadn't signed it. He knew Kate's handwriting inside out.

**Do they eat mince pies in America?? I know they have egg nog (or something like that). What the hell is egg nog?! If any Americans could answer these questions (and in so doing, make me less ignorant) I would be very grateful.**

**xx. **


End file.
